Awakening
by Solstickeflickan
Summary: A short story divided in three parts about Fenris's short life before he meets the champion.
1. Part 1  Awakening

There was lightning before his eyes. Flashes of white, followed by complete darkness. The light was not painful, but it made him uneasy. He tried opening them, but knew not how. Involuntary sounds escaped from his mouth as he struggled to flee from this mental prison.

"Hush. Be still," said a small voice, not far away. That was when he could feel his arms and legs. Something burning covered them, and somewhere on his middle regions a gentle pressure was applied and then removed in succession. The touch caused the fire on his skin to explode. He gasped hard and inadvertently threw open his eyelids.

The light that hit them was of another nature than that which had tantalized them not a second ago. This was gentler, warmer. He was looking up at a wooden ceiling, haunted shadows playing across its surface.

"Calm down," asked the voice. He let his eyes wander to where it originated from and found a girl with pale cheeks gazing with empty eyes at his chest where her hands were busy applying some sort of ointment.

"Where am I?" he asked with a cracking voice. He cleared his throat and discovered that it was raw and sore, like the rest of his body.

"In the basement."

"Basement?"

"Yes. Where we sleep."

"In a basement?" The fingers stopped fiddling around. The girl, who could not be old enough to be called an adult, yet had lost her beauty long ago, looked at him. Streaks of water made her cheeks glisten.

"Don't you remember?" He stared at her quizzically. "You are a slave. You work for the Magister and sleep in the basement of his mansion," she said with incredulous – or were they frightened? – eyes.

He let this sink in.

"A slave?" He refused to believe he had suffered such a terrible fate. And then it came to him. "I don't know who I am." The tears increased in amount as the girl could not contain her grief.

"Fenris. You are Fenris." She wiped the watery stripes away before new ones replaced them. She added, quietly to herself, "What has he done to you?"

"Fenris? Fenris." He tasted the name. "Who are you?"

"I am here to take care of you," she said and returned to tending to his wounds. He did not dare look down and see how grave they really were. He grunted as he felt what seemed like a knife slowly piercing through his skin. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this." The girl refused to as much as glance at him again.

"You're a slave, too?"

"Yes."

"What about–" he yelped in pain, "What about your name?"

"He calls me Ariana."

"But that's not your real name?" She sighed forcefully.

"No. It does not matter, anyway."

"What happened to me? I can't remember anything but lightning." Ariana let her eyes linger on his. Anger competed with the sorrow in them.

"_He_ did this to you. He... _changed_ you. Just look at yourself." She held up a tanned arm, muscular and firm. But that was not what caught his eyes, that made him sick inside and wonder what foul thing had caused this.

His skin was burnt with white strings that covered his entire body. Blood and pus was oozing from where his own flesh joined with the markings, making him look like a mockery of a living being.

He sat up, careful not to cause himself any more harm, and inspected the scars more closely.

"What is it?" he asked.

Ariana, who had backed away and were watching him solemnly, answered quietly, "I do not know." He turned to her suddenly.

"Why can't I remember?" he nearly yelled. Terror was claiming his intestines as he began realizing the memories would not return to him. Ariana merely looked at him sadly, her eyes swollen and her nose blotchy red. "Do I know you? Is Fenris really my name? Or did this Magister give it to me? How did I end up here?"

"I do not know," she repeated, keeping her gaze low.

Fenris put his bare feet on the floor, only just now realizing he was wearing nothing but small clothes. He ignored the sharp pangs shooting up through his legs as he stood up. Ariana hesitated only for a second before she hurried towards him and put a hand on a scar-free spot on his chest.

"You need to rest," she pleaded. He saw something in her black eyes then, an intimate tenderness. With a questioning look he grasped her wrist and held it firmly.

"Who _are _you?" Her sobbing stopped then for a fleeting moment, as though she were calculating something in her head. She blinked away the tears.

"No one. I am no one," she whispered without inflection in her voice.

"But you are Ariana." He did not understand the sudden change.

"I am but a slave. As are you. That is all." Fenris let go of her hand, which she hastily drew back at her side. They looked at each other silently for half of an eternity. Something in it made her slowly break to pieces again.

With despair in her voice, a hole in her heart, wraiths of torture in her face, she commanded him, "Lay down."

He obeyed.


	2. Part 2  On the Run

Ariana was twiddling around with her fingers. A bowl of steaming soup, salty and watery, stood before her. She exhaled her anxiety and let her eyes scan the tavern once again, as though this time she would finally spot him. He had not been gone for more than half an hour, yet it felt like he had left her to never return.

Though the soup was tasty enough, and her stomach an aching hole, she could not make herself finish it. The sickening fear she felt would never leave.

The entire time they had been on the run she had been positive every armed man and woman they stumbled upon were hired by the Magister to hunt them down. Every time she so much as bumped into another she had to stop herself from fleeing in panic. Thankfully, Fenris was not as easily unnerved. He would hold her wrist in a gentle, but firm grip, and when at night the memories distorted her dreams and ripped the paper-thin wall that separated reality from fantasy he would mutter calming words to her.

Without him, she would not have made it to the nearest village. No, that was not true. Without him, she would still be stuck in that nightmare. The amount of gratitude she felt towards him could not be described in words. That was why she had not questioned him when he had asked her to wait for him at this shady pub.

She carefully slurped a spoonful of the hot liquid and jumped as someone slumped down on the bench next to her. It was not Fenris.

"What's a lovely bird like you doing here?" asked a man with bushy hair and rough skin. She could tell he was intoxicated.

"I'm not interested," she said in a non-convincing manner. She hated her voice for being so small.

"You sure 'bout that?" The man leaned in closer, and she could feel the stench of bitter ale coming from his mouth.

He stroked her cheek with gnarled knuckles. Ariana jumped to the far end of the table, her heart's beating speeding to a faint fluttering.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled at him. The man merely smiled with yellowed teeth.

"Love, don't be like that." He chuckled contently before shuffling himself closer to her again. She grabbed a knife lying on the table, still dirty from recent use.

"If you touch me again, I _will_ stab you," she threatened. The man frowned.

"Why so harsh all of a sudden? Looks like you need a man to teach you something about touching." His hand enclosed her breast and squeezed hard.

Without thinking she lowered the knife-edge into the man's thigh. He screamed and pushed her forcefully away from him, making her hit the floor. Ariana scrambled hurriedly to her feet and took a defensive stance.

"I warned you."

"You stupid bitch!" His drunken eyes were a display of madness. He jerked out the knife and threw it at the table before he rose above her threateningly. "Don't you know your place, woman?" A clenched fist rose into the air, readying the punch, when suddenly he was pulled away by another hand.

Fenris' glare was more furious than she had ever seen it before. His eyes slits, teeth bared, and his lyrium markings a glowing blue, he punched through the man's stomach and partially solidified his fist. The drunkard gasped in bewilderment before death overcame him.

Muscles still tensed, Fenris grabbed her hand and led her through the silenced room to the back door. Ariana, though relieved to see him, still could not stop her trembling, and the feeling of disgust only grew stronger.

"Where were you?" she asked in an attempt to scatter the incoming memories.

"I was getting us a ride out of here," he answered with clenched teeth. His grip on her was starting to make her arm go numb. "I told you not to get in trouble, did I not?" he said accusingly.

"You're blaming _me_?"

"I _knew_ I shouldn't have left you alone..."

"Then why did you? And would you stop that? You'll make my arm fall off." Fenris let go of her. "And you didn't have to kill him."

"It doesn't matter now. We're leaving anyway."

"Fine. Now would you stop hating on me?" He gave her a look. They were out in the dark streets, making haste for the inn.

"I'm not mad at you."

"Then act more like it."

"I'm sorry. I just... couldn't contain myself."

"I noticed." Fenris slowed his steps and watched her with regretful eyes. She knew how easily they deceived.

"Forgive me. It was wrong of me to leave you."

"I can handle myself."

"Still, I could've chosen a safer location."

"Yes, well, let's not dwell on that, shall we?" Ariana tore her gaze from his and sped up her walk. They stayed silent for the remainder of the way.

They scurried about their room packing their few belongs into moth-eaten sacks. When they were done they stood and looked at each other in unison.

"So, where are we going?" asked Ariana.

"South, to the Free Marches."

"Do you reckon there will be less of his mercenaries there?"

"They will sniff out our scent soon enough."

"But we will have at least _some_ peace?"

"I doubt it." Ariana sighed and slung herself on the worn bed.

"Will it always be like this? Will we never be rid of him?"

"The bastard will get what he deserves when the time comes."

"And until then?"

"Until then we will have to watch our backs."

"I can't do it." Fenris looked at her quizzically.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't live like this. It is ruining me. Us."

"And what do you suppose we should do? Turn ourselves in? Let him play around with us until Death is kind enough to show mercy on us?"

"No..." She looked up at the ceiling with tired eyes. "I don't know." Her voice was a whisper. Fenris sat down next to her and leaned back against the wall.

"You want me to leave," he stated silently. Her eyes flickered towards him.

"What? No! I would never-"

"You know that is the only way for you to be free. The Magister doesn't care about you. It is me he is after." Ariana felt ice forming in her chest.

"Fenris," she said and sat up. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "I owe everything to you. I will never leave you. Besides, I wouldn't last the smaller half of an afternoon without you," she said jokingly.

"You have family, don't you? In the Free Marches?" Her smile froze and shattered, her eyes emptied of emotion.

"They are gone," she breathed.

"Surely you must have someone."

"No. They were either killed or sold into slavery when the raiders arrived." She added, nearly inaudibly, "You were the one who tore me from my little sister."

"I did _what_?" he asked incredulously.

"Before he marked you. You did his dirty work."

"Why would I ever do that?" He looked as though he wanted to laugh it all away, pretend she was making it up simply to amuse him.

"Why does anyone submit to the will of a tyrant? You were a slave. You didn't have much choice."

"How was I like?" Ariana shied away from his moss green eyes. He had never been very inquisitive about his past, not after he had gotten to know the essentials. She worried what he would make of the information.

"Brusque, I suppose. But not like his men. You never did treat me poorly. You were kind to me, though in your own way." She suddenly smiled at the memories of the then raven-haired man. Then she remembered what had happened to him and the momentary happiness ebbed out.

Fenris furrowed his brows in deep thought. An ancient sadness hid within the folds. Ariana gently touched his cheek.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are still the same man as before, if a little more stoic." She wanted to make him smile, turn that frown up-side-down, but he did not seem to hear her. "Fenris?" He looked up at her, a depth in his pupils she could not see the end of.

"I don't even know if I were one to hurt you. I could have been his best friend for all I know. How does one live with that?" Tears were forming in the corner of his eyes, making the abyss in them glisten with stars. Ariana fought hard to stay strong. For him.

"Hush. Don't think like that. What matters is what you are now. Even if you were a monster then, you still saved me. I would be but a ghost by now if it weren't for you." He looked down in shame, letting the tears flood down his cheeks.

Ariana could not bear his pain. Letting her body act out of its own will she lifted his cheek and kissed his soft lips. Accepting it, Fenris separated them and let her tongue in. His breathing came in hot waves, feeding her own.

Desperate hands pulled her closer, pressing her pounding heart against his. Her own ruffled through his hair, clawed at his back.

Their damaged souls joined to heal one another. For the first time since before she became a tool, a puppet, Ariana dared show her inner self to another.

For once, the sorrow, the terror, the pain was gone. All she knew was bliss.


	3. Part 3  Hardening

They had been discovered. He had seen one of them the day before in the city centre. This evening two others had dined at the tavern across the street to their inn. They had not shown any sign that they knew, but he could not be fooled so easily.

Fenris had told Ariana to pack their belongings while he made some arrangements down town. It was a shame that they had to leave; the Free Marches had proven to be more welcoming than he had ever imagined, and they had almost begun feeling safe within the walls of Tantervale. At least he could see some improvement since they left the Tevinter Imperium. Maybe, if they ran far enough, hid their tracks well enough, they would be able to one day settle down. Be free at last.

Fenris arrived at their room, finding Ariana sitting on the bed, eyes nervously glancing about, fingers twiddling, with two stuffed sacks at her feet. Relief washed over her as she spotted him. Fenris nodded to her it was time. She obeyed and picked up her half of the load as he took his. But then she moved no further.

"What if it's too late?" she asked, those innocent eyes full of contained fear.

"It's not," he said simply, giving her a reassuring kiss. She tried to smile. "Let's go."

They went out the back door, hidden underneath fully covering cloaks, and stood their pace as they walked down the streets to the city gates where the horses where waiting. Fenris's gaze wandered the empty streets, the hidden rooftops, the dark windows, after any signs of pursuit. When he found none he still could not let the feeling of walking into a trap fade away.

They stopped abruptly as they moved around a corner to discover the gates were surrounded by a small army of Tevinter imperials. Their path was blocked.

"What do we do?" asked Ariana.

"The gates are still open. We break through and run." He did not like the idea; it was too risky. But this was the only way out, and that was where they were headed.

"There must be another way. Maybe we should wait till dawn."

"No. They already know we are here. And, from the looks of it, have been tipped off we're leaving. We must." Ariana looked deep into his eyes, filling him with her love, and gently squeezed his hand.

"Then we run." She walked a step forward, but was stopped by his hand. She turned to face him.

"Do you trust me?" With a quizzical look she hesitantly nodded. "If I tell you to flee, you will do so." Her stare was blank. "If I tell you to leave me, you will." His voice was firm. She looked down, trying to hide her trepidation. "Do I have your word?" She raised her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Thank you." He kissed her again. "It is time."

They walked with lowered heads, slowly, towards the exit. Fenris's giant sword was clearly visible. Still, he hoped they would not notice it until it was too late. There were seven of them, all trained in battle and driven by a promise of a hefty reward. He would not be able to take them all in close combat, not alone. He would have to run for it as soon as he got the opportunity.

"Show yourself, or face the consequences," called one of them. They stopped and stayed still. "Did you hear me? Reveal your identity or die!" The mercenary angrily walked over to them, sword drawn. With it, he removed Ariana's hood. As shock struck him Fenris punched through his head and crushed its insides. The man gasped as he slumped to the ground, dead.

Before the others had time to react, Fenris jumped forward and beheaded the one nearest.

"Run!" he yelled at Ariana before engaging the five remaining warriors. He did not stop to see if she did. He lashed out with his sword in wide arcs, clashing against shields and expensive armour. But the men soon flanked him, and before he knew it they were all around him. He very nearly deflected their deadly weapons. Knowing his luck would not last, he jumped high into the air and landed a blow right between one of the mercenary's eyes, splitting his head. Without thinking he stepped sideways and collapsed a heart with his hand.

Three to go. He was sweating and panting heavily, and somewhere in his chest was a painful throbbing; he must have been hit after all.

He sheathed his sword and ran. Perhaps he was imagining things, but he could have sworn he had heard rushing footsteps on the stone ground.

Ariana was nowhere to be seen, though he could not decide whether this was a good thing or not. The mercenaries breathing down his neck, he fled through the gates, not thinking about the difficulty to breathe. He was just outside, hearing the steps of his followers slow, when he was hit flat in the back by an invisible force and knocked to the ground. Still trying to get his breath back he rolled over to get up. He suppressed his terror as he realized a mage was nearby.

Before he could find the caster, however, he was trapped in a magic field and could not move. Struggling without hope he heard her scream.

"Fenris!" Galloping hooves raced closer to him. He wanted to yell at her to turn around, to fulfil her promise, but his mouth was moulded in rock. All he could think of was the immediate threat of the mage.

The clattering silenced and he was thrown out of his prison.

"Go! Now!" he cried at her. But it was too late. Ariana gasped and her eyes flashed open, rolling about madly in their sockets. The veins in them burst and spilt blood out onto her cheeks. Her paralysed body trembled as it was being cut open from the inside.

Fenris frantically searched the gates for the blood mage, and when he spotted her, a small thing with eyes glowing red, he roared and charged at her. He evaded her traps, resisted her spells, and when the men came after him again he merely ran past them, striking one of them in the process. The mage was not smiling when he shoved his sword through her heart.

He did not waste any more time, but returned hastily to Ariana. Luckily, the remaining two mercenaries seemed a lot less prone to go after him now that they had realized that this elf perhaps was not worth the trouble after all.

Ariana lay still on the ground when he reached her. But he did not stop to check on her. He knew she was alive, knew she would live if only they could get as far from these men as was possible.

He put her in the saddle before him, giving the hunters one last, menacing look, before kicking the horse and riding off.

He rode until the horse collapsed on the road in the middle of nothingness. Fenris pulled Ariana aside, into hiding within the nearby forest. Her breathing alternated between weak coughs and tiny puffs, and her body's shaking had been reduced significantly since they left off. This did not comfort him, however.

"Ariana? Listen to me," he said to her, holding her head firmly between his hands. "Look at me." Her bleeding eyes shifted to his for a second, then returned to gazing blindly at the crowns above.

Fenris reached for the sack she had taken with her; the other had been lost sometime during the battle. Nothing was in it but ragged clothes and a few cans of food. A bellow escaped his throat and he threw the bag aside.

"Ariana!" he yelled. His fingernails bore into her freckled skin. "You have to keep fighting. You can survive this!"

But she did not hear his urgings. Instead, he could feel her pulse weakening, her temperature sinking.

"You can't leave me!" he begged, desperate. He pulled her close, cradling her limp body, forcing his strength and warmth into her. Suddenly, her eyes focused on his.

"Fenris," she whispered, "Love." Then she was still.

For a long while he was silent. He merely stared into her raven eyes, recognizing their emptiness inside. As her body grew stiff and cold he felt his pain drain. He did not shed any tears, did not feel the tightening throat, did not search for an understanding for all this.

Closing her eyes before kissing their lids, he got up and dug a hole in the ground using his sword and, when that was not enough, his hands. The grave was not deep, but it would have to do. He gently lay her at the bottom, stroking her cheek one last time. It was difficult to leave her there when he had to climb back up.

He looked down at her solemnly.

"Sleep well, my love," he trembled, his voice cracking at the last word. Tears began falling from his eyes, and his mouth made pathetic, yelping sounds. Shattered glass erupted in his chest and the pain fuelled him to numbly fill up her grave, not noticing the pebbles and stones rasping his skin.

When it was done he stood up straight, drawing in a full breath of the cold morning air. He knew then, that he would never feel for another again. Never again would he allow himself to become so dependant, so vulnerable.

He locked away his heart, and embraced the chill surrounding him. He was a weapon again, and he had a target.

His chin was held high as he stepped out of the forest, his face set in stone.


End file.
